Fix-Up, Shoot-Up
by OCfan11
Summary: The only reason she doesn't introduce herself as Mary-Sue is because that name would be boring here.
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

**Day Ten**

"Excuse me. I think you dropped… this…"

Margret glances up from her notes and sees the adorable pinkette looking almost fearfully at the book. The woman blinks, sees the markings shifting from black to red on the page, and lets out a happy exclamation as she takes it back and sets it on her tiny café table. "Thank you. That would have been the third time I missed this."

The mark flares out like an open eye, signaling the last moment as a l'Cie. The page shrivels, growing black and brown veins, but nothing unexpected happens. Margret hums and gets to writing notes about it, asking the woman who picked the book off the ground if she knows the time.

"Um," the pinkette swallows hard and stutters out the hour. After watching Margret write for a bit, she hesitantly asks. "What was that?"

"That?" Margret tilts her head up and blinks innocently. "You mean the brand?"

"Yes." A little surer.

"Well, I'm measuring how long it takes before the time limit to complete a focus is considered finished." Margret leans back and taps her pen on the table. "I got that brand from someone yesterday. I think the brand being off a person shortens the limit, but that's only the fifth one to turn so the findings aren't conclusive- are you okay?"

The pinkette is very pale and shaking, holding onto the table to stay on her feet. "The brand can't be removed."

"Sure it can." Margret gives her a knowing look. "Pull up a chair, dear. I'll explain how it works."

The young woman is shaking so hard that Margret gets the chair for her. Once seated and ordered a warm drink for the lady, Margret takes out a squirt bottle.

"Have you ever had a fake tattoo?" Margret asks, flipping the book's pages to show more l'Cie brands in varying stages of completion. "Where you put warm water on an image and hold it on until the ink transfers?"

The pinkette jerks a nod.

"This works in the reverse." There are twenty pages filled so far. She slips out one of the specialized, wax-like papers and holds it out for the other to feel. "That gets held over the whole brand and squirted with cold water until the mark is seen. Then it is peeled off on both sides, slowly, until the center is left. At the center is like a root. The longer the root has been there, the more it hurts to pull out. I normally spray the leftover hole with a potion or something to zap it close, but no heavy lifting for the day until it feels better."

"Could you do it now?" the pinkette says, wild hope in her eyes as she holds the paper with two fingers.

Margret is silent for a moment in understanding. She nods slowly. "As long as you don't scream, we can do it right here."

The words draw her back from hope. "There are people everywhere."

"They don't care, and they aren't watching." Margret motions the young woman over. "Unless it's somewhere sensitive. I know the fal'Cie are perverts."

That startles a laugh while the pinkette hesitates over the bandage on her arm.

"If you sit in front of me," Margret promises, "no one will know."

It takes two minutes. No one notices. The pinkette cries silently in pain and relief as she sips her drink and glances at her bloody bandage with a smile. Margret slips the paper into the book and packs it away. "May I get a name? I'm Margret."

"Serah."

She codes the name in her notes, like all the others. "It was very nice to meet you, Serah. If you ever meet anyone willing to help with my research, please let me know."

"How will I find you?"

"I'll probably be at a café around here. They have the best cookies."

Margret freezes when she gets a hug. "_Thank you_."

She pats the young woman. "Go be free out there, Serah. Don't worry about l'Cie or Cie'th anymore."

"I won't turn into one?"

"Without a mark you won't."

"_Thank you_."

"Don't mention it. Really. Don't. Pretty sure we could all go to jail."

Serah laughs wetly. "I won't."

(Of course, she mentions it to Snow.

Of course, Snow wants to meet the person who helped her.)

Margret watches the major plot change – the reason everything crumbled for the heroes the first time – get caught up in the shopping crowd and she groans. "F**k." The woman packs up and gets out of there as fast as possible. _This_ is why she should be careful what she wishes for.

(Of course, the strange woman has disappeared into the wind by the time the couples reaches the café.)

;;;

**Day One**

Things don't start nicely.

Margret opens her eyes slowly, afraid. Whatever she's expecting to see isn't there, and instead the world has turn and shifted into something gloriously frightening. Unbeknownst to her, she is there to fill one role. Open the door.

This place is not Earth, and she is not marked. Something has gone wrong equally for the world and for her.

Things do not start out nicely.

It does not get better from there.

(Oh yes, Margret opens the door. The woman picks up her supplies, searches, and leaves.)

The Pulse Vestige door is open, and so triggers the awakening of those with the mission of creating Ragnarok. What is supposed to happen is the gatekeeper returns to slumber until deemed necessary.

Margret walks into the night and realizes where she is soon after. She gets as far away as she can before blurting out, "I didn't mean it literally."

Except she did.

Marget's last words on Earth were, "I just want to change something for the better."

And now she's in a place where even if the heroes don't die, it still leaves them with a Bad End.

She is out of place and in the dawn, it takes all she has to keep her head up and look like she knows what she's doing.

_I wanted to do something for the better_, she thinks. The only idea she can come up with is removing the brands. Get rid of the brands, and people are no longer fodder. There would be no monsters, no needless death. Play her cards right, and no story.

She is stuck on how to go about any of that until she finally sits and takes stock of her belongings. There is a folder of wax paper she doesn't remember every having, and a note tucked into the bindings. Instructions on how to remove the brands, and a 'Sorry I couldn't be there to help'.

There is a gap in her memories, between her last words and how she ended up here. The only thing Margret is certain of is that she would never have entered this world willingly.

When she wanted to better the world, it was to do a small, reasonable task. Not this.

This is impossible.

(And still, she stands. She is living the impossible.)

Margret walks on, partly hoping fate will throw her some rope and partly hoping the nightmare is almost over.

Nobody looks at her twice.

(Serah Farron is not the first person to enter the new door at the Pulse Vestige. In fact, she won't enter until the next day.)

Margret backtracks and goes looking for a way to make a Good End.

;;;

**Day Three**

In the poorer districts of Bodhum, several people have had new tattoos removed. The woman removing them lives with the homeless kids and their self-proclaimed caretakers. Some kids were, after all, her first customers.

(Some people say test subjects.)

The rumors are quiet, and those who know the truth are too scared to speak of where they really got their tattoos.

Today, Serah is branded and found by the two former crystals, Fang and Vanille. It is today that an eighteen-year-old feels she loses everything.

(According to the seeress Yeul, this should be the day Serah's life becomes forfeit. The girl is the problem, and the reason their souls survive. Serah should be a tool from this day forth, and a crystal by the end of the Purge.)

In a decrepit house, Margret doesn't realize the stirrings. She's counting down days, adjusting to the new world, and focusing on keeping those around her alive. She doesn't know a pink haired young, _young_ woman has been branded. There is no recollection, because Serah was never a main character in the first game. At least, not to the player.

What Margret does remember is Lightening getting on a train to follow her l'Cie sister. Margret remembers a terrible birthday party. She recalls a young boy being branded when Fang and Vanille go searching for answers.

Margret thinks of a woman who dies protecting her son. She thinks of Nora and listens to the gossip about NORA.

There are too many fragments for her to be useful to the characters, and so she protects the ones who took her in.

"Mar," whines a teenager in the doorway. Margret looks up from the history book, eyeing Jephra critically. "Ya got anot'er customer."

"Alright," Margret perks up a bit. This, she can handle. "Anything I should know?"

There are a few giggles in the shadows, where the kids are eavesdropping. Jephra grins, "Mark's on their breast."

Margret rolls her eyes. _Of course it is. _Just another fal'Cie proving how perverted they are. "At least they're not hitting below the waist again."

;;;

**Day Ten**

Caius Ballad moves with single-minded determination towards Cocoon.

He will destroy the anomaly before their actions cause any more harm to Yeul.

* * *

**Disclaimer: I have no claim to Final Fantasy 13 or the franchise. All rights belong to their respective owners. **

**A/N: I've struggled with this chapter for years… thought maybe posting it might motivate me to write the story… Guess we'll see.**

**Thanks for reading**


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

**Day Eleven**

"Hello."

"Hello," Margret replies, tucking a loose curl behind her ear. The woman's smile is simple while her finger points slightly. "Nora, right?"

"Yes," Nora Estheim looks collected from her place in the hotel room's doorway. "How may I help you?"

"I'm actually here to ask your son a question." Hope can be heard getting out of bed. "He's not in trouble. I need to know if he ever explored the underground tunnels far enough to reach Bodhum."

Nora takes a deep breath. "I'm afraid I don't know what you're talking about."

"I'm sorry to hear that." Margret shrugs regretfully. "May I come inside so I can ask your son?"

"Why do you want to know?" Hope asks, shifting to see around his mother.

"Because a few kids I know played in the tunnels, but their entrances got blocked months ago. It would be very helpful if you could tell me if there are any more entry points."

It's Nora who responds quicker, snappier, "Why?"

Margret looks at the mother. Softly, "May I come in?"

There is a long talk about the upcoming quarantine no one is supposed to know of. The mother and son clutch each other tightly, hearing out the strange woman with a book of brands. Hope points to a few places on a map, and Margret makes note. She tells them, "We're starting evacuation in the rush after the fireworks tonight."

"We'll be there," Nora promises. She looks to her son.

"Then good luck," Margret smiles brightly. "We'll be sure to get you out."

"You're not coming?" Hope asks, eyes wide.

"I've got to help people get out." Her fists tighten around her bag straps. "And help those who don't."

Nora looks to want to ask, but Hope does instead, "What happens if we stay?"

The curly haired woman stills, even as her hand gives a spasm. "Well… it's nothing spectacular." She smiles and inches towards the door. "I'm sure you'll hear all about it when you're _safe_ and _away_."

"Then at least we'll see you tonight," Nora gets to her feet, eyes glues to the woman. She walks her to the door and whispers, "What will happen if we stay?"

Margret breathes deeply. She keeps the other woman's gaze. "The Sanctum fal'Cie will not risk contamination, not by magic or waiting it out. What's left… is to _cut out the problem_."

Nora's eyes flicker to the backpack, then back to Margret's gaze. "We _will_ see you tonight."

Margret smiles sadly. "See you tonight."

;;;

**Day Ten**

Jephra grins in the doorway, "Got anot'er customer for ya."

Margret throws a coin bag, the teenager quick to grab it out of the air. "Three more healing potions, keep the change."

"Always a pleas'ure."

Margret looks up from the mark – _Serah's mark_ – and doesn't pause. Not at the holes in the walls or sunlight dying away. Not at the sight of red hair and green eyes. Not at the sight of _Oerba Dia Vanille_.

This is a small fry compared to the change she started. "My name is Margret."

"Um… I'm Vanille," the young woman – _six hundred years asleep does not experience gain_ – forces a too happy smile. Shakes the outstretched hand. "Hi!"

Margret smiles. Motions to a chair. "Has someone filled you in?"

"I… have a few questions. Nothing too serious!"

"I don't mind," Margret sits. Pours a glass of water. "Besides removing the tattoo, most of what I study is theoretical. I'll try to answer best I can."

Vanille asks what others have. How to remove it, why keep it, and does it affect them without it. Most importantly, she wonders, "Is it possible to remove the brand… from someone who w- is crystal?"

"Removing it from crystal would likely be tricky," Margret hums, flipping through her instructions. Nothing about how to do it there. "But removing it from someone who once was crystal would likely be easier. The root at the center would have to be dead, or at least shrunk enough to restart the living process. From what I know, the crystals keep them immortal to a certain degree."

"It's not completely immortal?"

Margret shrugs at the panicked face. "Well, it isn't diamond. Crystal can break rather easily… are you okay Vanille?"

"No," she breaks into tears, gratefully taking the offered tissue box_. "We could have- could have_-"

Margret walks around her desk, taking off her glasses. The blurry sight still shows the hurt, the realization heavy for the young nineteen years old sobbing away. Vanille leans into the comforting hand on her shoulder, wailing. Six hundred years asleep, her best friend nearby. They could have woken up without the other.

Vanille never would have made it alone. She's barely holding together now.

Jephra only scurries in when the sobs are gone. Margret sorts the potions, letting the teen assure the young woman that they'll look after her until she gets on her feet again. With everything ready, Vanille is guided to the exam table, hiking up her skirt.

"We can look for whoever you're worried about," Margret mutters softly, glasses on once again, this time chained not to fall. If only the contacts here didn't have a time limit before they ruined eyes.

"Fang, she-" Vanille hiccups and shakes her head, "she's probably in custody. I couldn't possibly expect any of you to contest them."

"We'll at least keep an ear out," Margret pats her shoulder. "l'Cie and Cie'th talk has been kept pretty quiet, so it will definitely be about her if a few soldiers say a little too much at the bar tonight."

It takes Vanille a moment to get it. She giggles. "Thank you."

"Wait until the pain's died down," Margret squirts the paper until it's stuck flat against the young woman's thigh. "Then thank the kids. I'm just doing it for the science."

"Oh," but Vanille keeps smiling. "Okay, doctor."

Margret makes a face. "Not enough education for that. Now, are you ready?"

"Yes," there is no hesitation, only hope. "Do it."

Once again, the future changes.

;;;

**Day Eight**

"The boy's father," comes from the woman behind him. She hops over the couch to lounge, "looks like he'll do something desperate."

"It is rare in Cocoon for anyone to side with the l'Cie or Cie'th," Cid explains, turning away from the monitor. The camera feed of the capture plays on. "Even rarer for children to be marked. I'm sure if the fal'Cie understood how powerful the bonds between parent and child can be, they'd mark the children more often."

"And then you'd have to deal with a lot more death, wouldn't you?" Fang bites into her apple. "But don't doubt bonds between friends."

He smirks. "I don't. Have you made your decision?"

The woman roles her eyes, kicking her feet up on the glass table. Her white-stained mark in perfect view as she spreads her arms. "I'll ask around for your tattoo remover, but my friend comes first. Not like I can do much anyways, with all this waiting."

He chuckles, the mark under his glove _burning_. "I do appreciate you training with my men."

"Yah, about that, why are they all men? Seriously, you could do so much more with some women kicking butt out there."

"I'd like to remind you that before a week ago, we were as close to peace as the fal'Cie allowed," Cid walks for his desk, eyeing the mounds of paperwork just promising to be torture if he writes with his dominant hand. "And the majority of them believe us nothing more than cattle."

"Ugh," Fang tosses the core into the garbage, rim shot. _Score_. "You people are so backwards."

"Oh?" he turns, straight-faced. Pretending he isn't procrastinating. "Have you remembered something?"

"Nah, nothing before I woke up," Fang rolls her eyes and grabs the monitor's remote. She switches it to the other cameras around Cocoon, hoping for familiar red hair. "But even memoryless, I know we were better than sheeple."

Cid hums but cannot argue. He sits down, barely holding his pencil. He still can glimpse the snapshots, not all that easy to remember. Unfortunately, not hard to put together. The fal'Cie placed him here for a reason. They wouldn't let him go on by without knowing what he's supposed to accomplish for them.

Lightening. Snow. Sazh. And now Fang. Four of the six they want to mold. Four of the six with potential to contain Ragnarök. The fifth is likely Fang's missing friend.

The sixth is a _child_.

No, he'll make sure the fal'Cie are destroyed. The six will never be molded, and Cocoon will have its freedom. Even if he will become a Cie'th, he will not let children be branded as servants. Even if some chaos must rain, they cannot continue to live on the whims and plots of the fal'Cie.

Maybe it's selfish to hope there is a person removing the brand, but Cid wants to live. Won't risk the future on the chance, but it would be nice to stop pretending everything is fine. That he's still on his men's side. That he _can_ overthrow the Sanctum.

Cid Raines is holding on to his humanity by mere scraps of hope; his last move for the fight against the fal'Cie.

But he's already accepted the only redemption will be in death.

;;;

**Day One**

In this world, Etro is a fal'Cie. Created by a fal'Cie thought to be a God, she herself is worshipped as one. Humans are made from the parts of her left behind in the living world, created by the sibling meant to replace her. Their _hearts_ are pieces of chaos she has fastened for them. Their _souls_ are what she fishes out after the chaos pulls it to her world, to Valhalla.

A human steps foot on Cocoon, one not made of her blood or bones.

A soul that has never seen Valhalla does not return to sleep.

A _heart_ not made of chaos spreads it as the timestream begins to fray. The future is no longer certain, Etro cannot touch it. Cannot change it.

Cannot save people from Ragnarök once again.

And the Yeul of this time, on Day One towards the beginning of the end, sees one last hard-hitting vision with the with Eyes of Etro.

_Bright lights explode in the sky._

With a cry of pain, Yeul falls fast asleep.

* * *

**A/N: Thank you for reading! A big thank-you to AnimeGamerGirl23 and MiharuTousaka for reviewing! The support really means a lot.**

**I hope everyone has a fantastic day**


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